


just for you

by annejumps



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Bakery, Canon Jewish Character, Ficlet, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annejumps/pseuds/annejumps
Summary: Charles is a baker who makes decadent, beautiful, fancy cakes and pastries, and Erik is his mysterious recurrent customer.





	

Charles tries not to have favorite customers. He likes to think all his customers are his favorites. But he’s starting to suspect, by the second week of him showing up every morning, that the tall, brooding man who likes to wear leather jackets and turtlenecks might be his favorite.

His sister would probably assume his reasoning had to do with the way the man wore his clothes, or his handsome face and chiseled jaw, and, well, none of that hurts. But Charles is a telepath, and the man, Erik—who has a very interesting mutation, one that allows him to manipulate metal—happens to have a mind that reacts with such quiet, appreciative delight to Charles’ pastries and cakes that Charles can’t help being flattered and charmed. This Erik has very high standards. 

However, they don’t get to actually speak very often—Erik comes in at the busiest times, and Charles is usually too busy rushing about to give him much personal attention. But one day, he has his moment.

Sleeves rolled up, wiping his jammy, floury hands on his apron, Charles walks over to the counter near where Erik’s waiting.

Charles catches his eye and smiles at him; Erik looks startled, but only slightly, and raises a brow.

“What do you like best here?” Charles asks. He could read Erik’s mind if he really wanted, but other than surface thoughts, Charles doesn’t really delve, and besides, it’s a bit disrespectful. Then there’s the fact that Erik has a slight natural resistance to mind-reading.

“Jam tarts, specifically the strawberry,” Erik says immediately, “followed by the raspberry Berliners.”

Charles folds his arms, and makes a show of looking at Erik speculatively. “And what have we not got here that you wish we did?”

“Rugelach,” Erik says, “although I don’t expect a non-Jewish bakery to meet my standards for them.” He shrugs, unapologetic but slightly teasing.

“Try me,” Charles says. He winks, then returns to work, smiling, and mulling over what Erik’s said.

So Erik likes his jewel-like jam tarts with the heart and diamond cut-outs and powdered sugar, and the plump, soft Berliners with their sugary crusts and tart filling. Charles doesn’t really think he’ll have a problem making rugelach, even though he’s never made them before; they’re similar enough to other fruity cookies, after all. He decides he’ll make Erik raspberry-chocolate rugelach, with nuts and cinnamon, sprinkled with turbinado sugar. He’ll time them so that they’ll still be warm, the dark chocolate still melty at the time Erik typically arrives.

When he does, Charles is ready.

“Your rugelach, sir,” Charles says by way of greeting, taking one from the case and handing it over the counter to Erik. “On the house,” he adds, and watches expectantly as Erik takes it, looking it over. Erik steps out of line as he takes a bite, looking thoughtful as he chews. Charles waits.

“Good flakiness,” Erik comments. “Filling and sugar in good proportions. Surprisingly rich, not very dry. I’m impressed,” he admits. Charles beams.

“Not equal to my mother’s, of course,” Erik adds.

Charles laughs, delighted. “Of course,” he echoes. “I’ll let you get back in line. Try the strawberry jam tarts—I’m told they’re not to be missed, by someone with excellent taste.” 

He winks at Erik and returns to the kitchen to help Armando. Charles is kept busy there for quite some time, but his thoughts return to Erik every now and again. Erik was definitely flattered and honestly impressed, and he doesn’t give praise unless it’s deserved.

After the morning rush has died down, Sean goes on break, and brings him a business card. “From that guy, the tall, brooding guy. For you.”

Erik Lehnsherr is the name on the front, and the company is a prestigious engineering firm. On the back, in very neat handwriting, is written _I think my mother would insist that I propose to you for that. But first things first. May I take you to dinner?_


End file.
